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The Wrong Harry: A Novel of Mistaken Centuries, Borrowed Hearts, and the Duke Who Noticed Everything
When the innocent college boy Harry transmigrates into the body of a flirt with a scandalous reputation to match, he discovers something the indifferent Duke of Graham has been watching him - both the old and the new Harry, and decides to be more attentive to the new one.
Harry Collins has survived three years of university, two failed relationships, and one particularly brutal Statistics final. What he has not survived — technically — is the ceiling fan in exam hall B.
He wakes up in the wrong century.
More specifically, he wakes up in the body of Harry Ashforte, a recklessly charming aristocrat with a scandalous reputation, a wardrobe of alarmingly fitted breeches, and a complicated history with one James Graham, Duke of Graham — the most devastatingly composed man Harry has ever had the misfortune of being unable to stop looking at.
The situation is manageable. Harry has a read the journal, learn the history, impersonate the rake, avoid the Duke, survive until Sunday.
The plan lasts approximately one evening.
Because the ladies of the house party have decided that the new, slightly baffled, endearingly red-faced Harry Ashforte is considerably more interesting than the old one. Because Hawthorn has hidden the carriage. Because the breeches — God help him, the breeches — are made of white Stockinette and communicate everything. And because the Duke of Graham, who has been watching Harry Ashforte for six years with the thorough, unhurried attention of a man waiting for the right conditions, has looked up from his book and found someone entirely unexpected in the chair across from him.
Someone who blushes. Who listens to colonels about architecture. Who reads natural philosophy with genuine interest and navigates entire conservatories full of orchids to avoid having a conversation that he is going to have anyway.
Someone, the Duke thinks, worth being considerably less patient about.
Wrong Harry is a slow-burn Regency romance about borrowed bodies, inherited feelings, and two men in a library who are both, for entirely different reasons, in exactly the right place. It is about the medium changing what passes through it. About the conditions that allow things to flower. About the specific, clarifying experience of arriving somewhere you did not expect and finding, to your considerable surprise, that you do not want to leave.
It also contains an unfortunate quantity of white Stockinette.
Harry Collins has survived three years of university, two failed relationships, and one particularly brutal Statistics final. What he has not survived — technically — is the ceiling fan in exam hall B.
He wakes up in the wrong century.
More specifically, he wakes up in the body of Harry Ashforte, a recklessly charming aristocrat with a scandalous reputation, a wardrobe of alarmingly fitted breeches, and a complicated history with one James Graham, Duke of Graham — the most devastatingly composed man Harry has ever had the misfortune of being unable to stop looking at.
The situation is manageable. Harry has a read the journal, learn the history, impersonate the rake, avoid the Duke, survive until Sunday.
The plan lasts approximately one evening.
Because the ladies of the house party have decided that the new, slightly baffled, endearingly red-faced Harry Ashforte is considerably more interesting than the old one. Because Hawthorn has hidden the carriage. Because the breeches — God help him, the breeches — are made of white Stockinette and communicate everything. And because the Duke of Graham, who has been watching Harry Ashforte for six years with the thorough, unhurried attention of a man waiting for the right conditions, has looked up from his book and found someone entirely unexpected in the chair across from him.
Someone who blushes. Who listens to colonels about architecture. Who reads natural philosophy with genuine interest and navigates entire conservatories full of orchids to avoid having a conversation that he is going to have anyway.
Someone, the Duke thinks, worth being considerably less patient about.
Wrong Harry is a slow-burn Regency romance about borrowed bodies, inherited feelings, and two men in a library who are both, for entirely different reasons, in exactly the right place. It is about the medium changing what passes through it. About the conditions that allow things to flower. About the specific, clarifying experience of arriving somewhere you did not expect and finding, to your considerable surprise, that you do not want to leave.
It also contains an unfortunate quantity of white Stockinette.
308 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 27, 2026
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